


Between a Dragon and Her Wrath

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angsty Wedge Antilles, Bathing/Washing, Crying, Dragons, Fire, First Kiss, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Magic, Massage, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quests, Slow Burn, Sparring, Telepathy, Tumblr Prompt, title inspired by a Shakespeare quote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-15 23:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21026762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: When Wedge’s home is destroyed by a dragon, he joins Tycho on a quest to slay the beast.





	Between a Dragon and Her Wrath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphorisnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorisnt/gifts).

> About a thousand years ago Betsy asked for a Wedge/Tycho fantasy AU, and that thing is finally here. Hopefully it’s in some small way worth the wait.

Wedge has what people call weak magic. He can communicate with animals. Not in words, per se, but in feelings and intentions – he can tell when they're hungry and thirsty or if they're in pain. It's a valuable skill for taking care of the horses travelers lodge at his parents' inn, and it's the reason he's still there having reached adulthood instead of having gone off to become a knight and marry a princess like someone with battle magic might have.

Not that battle magic or princesses have ever been things that interested him.

He'll wonder many times after if it was his magic that drew the dragon to them, but there will never be any way to tell. It just happens. Late one night, he goes out to feed the horses. There are only four of them that night, two brown, one black, one beautiful pure white. The last he'd given special attention to when he groomed them, brushing her coat until it shown, able to feel her contentment at the treatment singing through him.

He empties buckets of oats into the trough and is just about to go inside for his own dinner when he hears it. A sort of low, moaning screech echoing over the land that freezes his bones. He can't identify it, but he knows just the same that he's afraid, suddenly rooted to the spot.

And then there it is, a huge, black beast emerging from over the forest, ragged wings obscuring the stars. It dives right for the inn, a gout of flame forming at its mouth and blasting forward.

Wedge cries out, managing to unstick himself and dive away from the building as fire caresses the dry thatched roof and bursts across it, wild shadows suddenly dancing across the lawn. The horses scream in terror, and Wedge drags himself to his feet, dashes wild for the door – _the inn is full of people, his parents_ – and is knocked back when the dragon makes another pass, more flames surging across the front of the building.

Wedge suddenly realizes he's yelling, throat aching as he cries for his mother and father, urging them to emerge, warning them of the danger far too late.

The fire surges across the wooden building, devouring everything like a hungry beast. A beam falls, part of the inn collapsing, blocking the door and shattering a window. Nothing moves inside, and Wedge sobs, hoarse, collapsing to his knees as he realizes hope is lost. His parents are gone. Everything he knows is gone.

Above, the dragon flaps its great wings, seeming to hover as it surveys its work. Wedge throws his head back and screams at it, demanding to know why, knowing there won't be an answer. They're too far apart for him to use his magic, and he's far too upset to concentrate anyhow. And what reason would even _matter?_

He watches, numb now, as flames lick the remains of the structure, more parts of the inn collapsing and sending sparks swirling up into the night. Then, suddenly, the terrified cries of the horses filter back to him, and it's what snaps Wedge back to reality, dragging him to his feet and toward them without thought. He can still save them before the fire spreads.

Wedge runs like he never has before into the stable, throws open the doors and shoos the animals toward safety. He can feel their fear and confusion biting at his mind, and he tries desperately to send back calm, to indicate the way to escape the flames. Finally, they seem to understand, streaming out of the stable toward the safety of the forest.

Wedge follows, reaches the edge of the trees himself before collapsing again, watching with dull eyes as the fire consumes everything. The dragon has disappeared, perhaps off to terrorize more innocents or already planning another attack here. Wedge can't bring himself to care. He watches the fire for what feels like hours as the inn that has been his home, his whole world really, for his entire life collapses in on itself, grows smaller and smaller as it's consumed.

He hears running hoofbeats, assumes it's the freed horses returning, confusing directions in their panicked flight. Maybe he'll be trampled.

But then the sounds stop beside him, and he looks up, certain for a moment that he's hallucinating. A tall, finely proportioned brown horse stands beside him, and atop it a knight in full, shining armor holding a torch.

“Hey!” the knight calls, dropping gracefully to the ground and kneeling beside Wedge. “Are you all right?”

Wedge doesn't know what to say. He's still half-convinced he's dreaming.

The knight's helm tips as he looks up at the burning building, and Wedge hears him curse, then pull the helm off as he looks back. He's very handsome, Wedge thinks dimly, all flowing blond hair and bright blue eyes that catch the firelight. Too bad his rescue came too late.

“You came from there?” the knight asks gently.

Wedge can only nod.

The knight sighs heavily and slumps beside him. “I'm sorry. I've been chasing that dragon for what feels like ages now.” Anger leaks into his voice. “I swore I'd never let something like this happen again.”

“Again?” Wedge asks shakily, because faint curiosity is something he can feel besides pain.

The knight nods, and his eyes flash. “My home burned, too. My entire village. I lost everyone.” He looks away, and Wedge watches his throat work as he swallows hard. “So I know what it's like. And I know sorry doesn't help. But I'm so sorry.”

“Thank you,” Wedge says roughly.

“I'm Tycho,” the knight tells him.

“Wedge.”

“I'm sorry,” Tycho says again.

Wedge just starts crying.

Tycho doesn't try to talk any more, but he stays with Wedge. When the flames have finally gone out for the most part, leaving only smoking ash and ruins behind, they cautiously approach. Wedge doesn't expect to find anything reassuring, and those expectations are met. In the remains of a back room belonging to his parents, he finds a part of charred skeletons clinging to each other.

It takes Tycho's strong arms around his waist, armor biting into Wedge's back, to keep him from collapsing right there in the still-hot ruins.

Instead, he lets the man drag him to the edge of the destruction. After awhile, he gains enough sense back to approach the edge of the forest and retrieve a pair of branches and a sturdy vine. He fashions them into a rough cross and plants it at the edge of the remains of the inn, murmurs a prayer for departed souls more out of habit more than anything.

Tycho stands at the periphery, silent until Wedge steps away, his duties complete, and turns back, wiping his eyes.

“Come with me,” Tycho says solemnly. “We can fight it together. So no one else has to live through this.”

Wedge doesn't say that plan apparently hasn't worked out for Tycho in the past. Instead, he goes with, “I can't fight.”

“I'll teach you.”

Wedge nods. He doesn't need to think about it any further. The desire for revenge burns bright within him.

“Okay.” Tycho gives him a little smile. “Do you have a horse?”

“I'll find one.”

Wedge marches into the forest, reaching out through his magic for the presence of the horses he'd freed earlier. It's not like their owners need them anymore.

The white mare comes trotting out of the shadows almost immediately and walks right up to him. “Hey, girl,” Wedge murmurs as he rubs her neck. There's soot streaking the fine white hair there, and he frowns as he rubs it away. He draws his magic close around them and rests his forehead against hers. He tries to convey, in simple pictures and impulses, that where they're going could be dangerous and she can stay in the forest if she prefers.

She whinnies, butts his head gently, looks at him with big, intelligent eyes. Wedge gives her a tiny smile. “All right then. Partners.” He pats her neck again and leads her back to where Tycho is waiting.

“She's a beauty,” the knight says as he looks the horse over. “She must really like you.”

“She does,” Wedge confirms, and when he realizes that sounds a bit big-headed explains, “She told me. I can sort of communicate with her. With any animal.”

A grins slides onto Tycho's face. “You have magic.”

“Yeah. It's not very strong, but it's there.”

“That's amazing. Much more impressive than being able to swing a sword around.”

Wedge shrugs as he levers himself up onto the horse's back, taking a moment to find his balance. Bareback is his only option until he can replace the gear that burned in the fire. Though the way they can communicate, he doesn't think it'll be a problem.

“I'm going to have to be able to swing a sword if I'm going to help you kill a dragon, though,” Wedge points out.

“The basics aren't as hard as you might think.” Tycho trails off as he turns his horse toward the trail that will lead them away from the remains of the inn and into the forest on the opposite side from which he first approached. “Are you ready?”

Wedge takes a deep breath, but he doesn't look back. He doesn't want to remember his home like this. “I'm ready.”

Without another word, Tycho coaxes his horse into motion, and they set off. The trees soon close around them, the forest still dim as the light from the rising sun just starts to touch the branches overhead.

Wedge brings his horse up alongside Tycho's. “So what's our plan? How do we even find the thing?”

“It's tough,” Tycho admits. “I've been trying to find its lair, but that's proving difficult. It doesn't seem to return there regularly. I don't think it needs to sleep as often as other animals. Sometimes I find places it's fed, or, um, places it's attacked, and that points me in the right direction, too. But I've never been able to catch it in a position where I can actually attack. With two of us, that might be easier.”

“Right.”

“I'm guessing I probably already know the answer,” Tycho says hesitantly, “but just in case...did you happen to see where it went when it left last night?”

“No. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

Wedge looks away, wishing the sound of their horses' feet on the path would drown out his thoughts.

Tycho clears his throat softly. “Um. You're not blaming yourself for what happened are you?”

Wedge closes his eyes, unable to answer. Part of him knows there was no way what happened was his fault, and yet maybe if he'd moved faster, if he'd left home when his abilities came to light...

“Because it had nothing to do with you,” Tycho says firmly. “That thing is a bloodthirsty killer, and you couldn't have done anything to prevent it. Neither could I when it happened to me. Took me a long time to accept that myself. It's still hard some days.”

“But I could have,” Wedge says after awhile. “Maybe. If my magic was stronger...I might have been able to convince it to go away.”

Tycho gives him a thoughtful look. “I don't know about that...but did you get anything from it? Any...anything?”

Wedge shakes his head. “It was too far away, and if it did come close enough, I was too distracted.”

“That's understandable. Don't worry about it,” Tycho assures him. “Maybe when we see it again, you can give us some insight.”

“I'll try.”

They ride for most of the day with no sign of the beast, stopping only briefly for lunch, a shared wheel of cheese and a few slices of bread from Tycho's bag. When they finally stop to make camp for the night, Wedge slides off his horse, entire body sore and shaky.

“I've ridden before,” Wedge says, trying to make it a joke, “but never like this. Wow.”

Tycho gives him a sympathetic smile as he produces a length of rope to tie up the white mare. “If you were having trouble, you could have asked to stop earlier. Things might improve for you when we can get you a saddle, but otherwise it's just getting used to it.”

“I'll be fine.” Wedge winces. “Um, about the saddle, though...I don't exactly have any money, you know? I don't really have anything left,” he adds more quietly, biting his lip as it starts to wobble and willing the tears welling up in his eyes to stay there.

“Hey.” Tycho rests a hand on his shoulder. “I'll take care of you, okay? My family was well off before everything, and they banked in the next town over. I cleared out their accounts before I left.” He shrugs. “It's not a problem, really. And I like helping people.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

Tycho steps away to finish securing his own mount, and Wedge takes the opportunity to compose himself, dashing away tears and setting his face back in some semblance of normalcy. When he turns back, he finds Tycho starting a fire and setting up a frame of sticks to cook their dinner. He's pulled off most of his armor, too, giving Wedge a good look at him for the first time.

“Okay?” he asks as Wedge approaches, and Wedge has to fight down a fresh reaction at the easy care and sympathy.

He manages to nod and forces his concentration elsewhere: the pain he feels lancing through his body with every step is an easy target. His back aches, his legs are sore, and muscles in his core he didn't even know he had are suddenly and loudly making their presence known. He sinks onto a mossy log and whines softly when even that gives him precious little relief.

Tycho's sympathy finds him again. “I promise it'll get better in a couple of days. When I first started my training, there were times I could barely move, but I just had to keep going, and now I don't even feel it anymore.”

“I'll look forward to that.”

Tycho smiles. “Once I've got dinner going, I can give you a little massage if you like. Might help some.”

“Um, okay.” Wedge hopes his flush isn't too obvious, but Tycho just nods at him and goes back to work. Wedge watches him, his sure movements, the twist of his hips and shift of his shoulders. It would be a lie to say Wedge doesn't find him immensely attractive. Brave and determined and handsome, and sensitive and caring to boot – he' s a real knight in shining armor.

It feels wrong. With the loss so fresh, grief clawing up the back of his throat in every idle second, he shouldn't be thinking these things. He shouldn't be imagining what it will be like to have this knight's hands on him, perhaps in more places than just his shoulders.

“Wedge?”

He blinks out of his thoughts to find Tycho looking down at him, a crease in his forehead.

“I – almost asked if you were okay there,” Tycho says a little awkwardly. He sighs, seating himself beside Wedge. “Obviously not. If you want to talk, I don't know how much help I'll be, but I'm here.”

“Thank you.”

“So, turn around for me?” Tycho says, making a pinching gesture with his hands, and Wedge does. Tycho's hands land on his shoulders warm and firm, thumbs pressing hard circles on either side of the top of his spine. After a few rotations, he shifts his grip down an inch or two, repeats the movement.

Already feeling his muscles beginning to unknot, Wedge groans softly. “That feels good,” he murmurs.

“Good. I've been told I have magical hands – though not like yours, I suppose.”

“My hands aren't magical,” Wedge points out, “that's not how-” but then Tycho is chuckling, and he feels his face flushing hot. He's clearly missed out on a joke of some kind.

“Never mind, it's all right,” Tycho assures, still continuing his careful ministrations.

Wedge sighs into it, trying to let himself relax. Even having barely just met him, he feels comfortable around Tycho. Perhaps too comfortable.

Eventually Tycho makes it all the way down his back, hands spanning his hips as he rubs those gentle but firm circles into the small of his back where he aches the worst.

“That's what I thought,” Tycho murmurs as sounds of relief bubble from Wedge's throat. “Easy. I've got you...” He keeps going, maybe a little longer than strictly necessary, but there's no way Wedge is going to complain. He can't care about much in that moment, just warm hands on him taking away his pain.

“That ought to do it for now,” Tycho says finally, shattering the moment of peace. He pats Wedge's shoulder and moves away. “I think our food should be warm now.”

“Sounds good.” Wedge manages a smile as he turns back toward the fire and accepts the dish Tycho passes to him. They eat in silence for awhile, nothing between them but the crackle of the fire and the night calls of animals in the woods beyond their camp.

But that only gives time for Wedge's dark thoughts to creep back in. “I've never spent much time away from home before,” he finds himself saying. “I go to the city with my mother or father – well, _went_, I suppose – sometimes to pick up supplies, and I went camping a few times as a child, but I've never spent more than a night or two away from my own bed. And now I'm never going to go back.” It seems to hit all at once then. His family is gone. His home is gone. He has nothing to go back to and no reason to go.

He's barely conscious of the fact that he's crying again until Tycho is beside him once more, an arm tight around him, the other taking the plate from his hand and setting it aside. “Shh,” Tycho says gently, “It's all right. It's okay to cry.” He rubs Wedge's arm, and he just cries harder. “I understand what you're going through. It's so hard when it's so fresh, but trust me, Wedge. It'll get better. In time, you'll hurt less, I promise. You just keep putting one foot in the other, and you keep living.”

Wedge has no words. On one hand, he believes what Tycho says, because he knows the man has lived it. On the other hand, he hurts so much right now, and he can't imagine that ever going away. “I'm tired,” he says hoarsely, once again trying to deflect his attention to something else. He is. He's tired and he hurts, in his heart and in his bones, and he just wants to lay down.

“Of course. I only have one bedroll, but we can share. I don't mind.”

Wedge swallows a lump in his throat, because though he had everything he needed, he never had much for possessions growing up. It's strange now to have _nothing_, to be entirely dependent on the kindness of this stranger.

“I appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Tycho gives him a squeeze and stands. Wedge watches blearily as he unties his pack from his saddle and spreads blankets across the ground, dropping to hands and knees to smooth out the wrinkles. He tosses the small pillow toward one end and looks back at Wedge. “It's a nice night, so we won't bother with the tent. You can look at the stars.”

“I'm just going to go to sleep.”

“Or that,” Tycho agrees. “Come on, then.” He gestures Wedge over.

Wedge goes, laying down on one half of the blanket and facing away from Tycho. A moment later, the pillow enters his field of vision as Tycho holds it out.

“You can use this. I don't mind.”

“Thank you.” Wedge slides it under his head, appreciating even the small comfort. “Thank you,” he says again, soft, “for being so kind to me.”

“You don't have to thank me. I hate seeing you hurting.”

Wedge doesn't have a response for that, so he just closes his eyes. He listens for a few minutes as Tycho moves around the camp before finally joining him for sleep. He lays down with his back against Wedge's, warm and solid, a comfort in itself.

Wedge wakes to the sound of birdsong and someone moving around nearby. The ground is hard beneath him, his body sore for it, and he doesn't know where he is. His eyes slide open cautiously to the sight of trees.

Recent events come back to him suddenly, stealing his breath, and his eyes squeeze closed again. Grief assaults his heart, and he tries to breathe evenly.

“Wedge?” comes a voice that's quickly becoming familiar, and footsteps track to his side.

Wedge looks up to see Tycho hovering over him, looking concerned but like he doesn't quite know what to say. “Breakfast is nearly ready,” he settles on. “Then we can get going. We'll reach a town today, and we'll load up on supplies.”

Action. Action is good, Wedge thinks. He'll focus on that. He gets up, and Tycho shows him how to stow the bedroll. They eat quietly and soon are back on their horses. Wedge is hesitant, remembering how much he hurt yesterday, the pain still lingering now, but he knows there's other no way out but through.

“So what's our plan exactly?” he asks once they're on the trail, needing to keep the quiet at bay as much as to know.

“In town, we load up on foodstuffs. We need more now that there's two of us. Plus tack and saddlebags for you. A sword. Maybe some armor.”

Wedge flushes and stares down at his hands wrapped in his horse's mane. “That's a lot. I'm sorry-”

“Hey, I said I would take care of you. I mean it.”

“I'll figure out a way to make it up to you.”

“We're on this quest together now. That's help enough.”

Wedge bites his lit for a moment, then asks another question. “So, we load up. What then?”

“Ask around, see if anyone knows anything about the dragon. If they have, we follow what leads we're given. If they haven't, we head for the next town and ask again. And we keep our eyes out, always, because we might see something ourselves.”

Wedge nods. It sounds easy. It sounds like such a different life from anything he's ever known.

“And I'll teach you to fight, like I said, so that when we finally face that thing down, we can defeat it together.”

Together. That has a nice ring to it.

Wedge tries not to wonder what he might do after the dragon is gone.

The inhabitants of the town don't know anything about the dragon but tales they've heard from outside, most of which Tycho already knows. Word is everywhere of the nearby inn going up two nights ago, and Wedge just manages to hold himself together as the smith animatedly tells them all he knows. (Not much; all he saw was the glow in the sky, the creature flying away, but at least now they have a direction.)

Tycho puts a steadying hand on Wedge's wrist and redirects the conversation toward the supplies they need. Soon Wedge is outfitted with some light armor and, after trying a few different ones and following the advice of both Tycho and the smith, a sword. He's told it's one of the lighter types available, but it still feels unusually heavy at his side as he slides it into his new scabbard.

Next they refill their food supplies, Wedge shyly giving his input on his preferences when Tycho asks, and divide the spoils between them, filling Wedge's newly-acquired saddlebags. By early afternoon, they're finished and back on the road again, traveling in the direction the smith and his fellows had indicated.

“How do we even fight a dragon?” Wedge wonders aloud.

“A sword trough the heart will do it for most things,” Tycho answers matter-of-factly.

“How are we going to reach it?”

“We'll have to lure it to the ground. Get in close, maybe use a distraction. Bait. Then we strike.”

Wedge shivers. It sounds dangerous, deadly even, but then he thinks about the lives the beast has taken, how badly he wants to get it back for taking his family from him, and maybe it's worth it.

“This is far enough, I think,” Tycho says a while later, steering his mount off the trail and into a clearing. “We'll set up camp, and I'll start teaching you the basics of how to defend yourself.”

Today Wedge makes the fire as Tycho secures the horses. The basics aren't that much different than the hearth back in the inn. The thought makes his heart clench.

When Tycho rejoins him, he's removed his armor and is holding two thick sticks roughly the length of their swords.

“What are those for?”

“When you're just beginning, you're more likely to damage your weapon than anything,” Tycho explains, “so I'll show you some things with these, and we can practice. The weight isn't the same - there's really only one way to get used to that - but it's a start.”

“All right.” Wedge finds himself surprisingly eager to begin. Being able to defend himself against the dragon as well as anything else they might encounter is a good thought. He never wants to feel as helpless as he did that night again.

Tycho smiles. “Great, let's do it then.”

He tosses one of the sticks, and Wedge fumbles to catch it, flushing a little when it rebounds from his hand and hits the ground.

“We'll work on that,” Tycho promises lightly, stepping away from the fire a little deeper into the clearing. He holds his own stick out in front of him. “First, let me see what you've got. Hit me.”

Wedge doesn't want to hit Tycho, but he's also pretty sure he won't actually be able to manage it, so he steps closer and swings. Tycho's stick comes up, intercepting Wedge's sharply, the vibration ringing Wedge's arm. He steps back and tries again, lower, and again Tycho blocks him.

“Good. You've got good instincts going for my weak points like that, but we can do better. Let me show you.”

Tycho goes on to demonstrate a basic attack, then has Wedge practice it over and over before switching to showing him how to block. The repetitive movements make Wedge's arms quake after awhile, and he can't imagine what they'll be like to perform with his actual sword.

It's been another long day full of new things and physical workouts, and Wedge is grateful when they break for dinner and climb into their separate bedrolls soon after. The air is warm and the sky clear; again they don't bother with the tent. Wedge enjoys having space to stretch out and not feeling like he's monopolizing Tycho's things, but he misses the other man beside him even after only one night.

It's amazing how quickly this becomes his new normal. Days flow into each other: riding, practicing fighting, interviewing townsfolk. The dragon hasn't been seen since it destroyed Wedge's home, but they continue the search. Tycho keeps teaching Wedge, and he can feel himself learning and growing stronger. He graduated to using his sword in their practice matches fairly quickly, and now he can block most of Tycho's attacks even if he can't quite get one back on him. He's better at riding, too, his body grown accustomed and no longer feeling like he's been run over by a cart at the end of every day.

Sometimes Wedge can almost forget what his life used to be like. Can almost believe he's been here on the road with Tycho forever. When Tycho smiles at him, pride in his blue eyes at Wedge mastering something new, it's like a sunrise, a flip of Wedge's heart that he knows is dangerous. This won't last forever. It can't. They'll either slay the dragon or they won't, and then they move on. He still doesn't know what that looks like, but he can't let himself get too involved. (He can't let himself consider that they might not both survive that final confrontation.)

One evening, they're sparring, camped beside the ruins of an old watchtower. Tycho's eyes gleam with challenge as he holds his sword in a guard position and beckons Wedge forward. Wedge pushes sweat-slick hair back from his forehead, and moves warily, familiar with more of Tycho's tricks now. He can feel a pleasant burn of exertion in his body, but he's not tired yet. His stamina is better than it used to be.

A smile plays at the edge of Tycho's lips. He thinks he knows exactly what Wedge is about to do and how to block it, but Wedge has a surprise for him. Wedge feints to the right, then lunges to the left, bringing his sword around in a powerful arc. Tycho's eyes go wide with surprise as he barely gets his weapon up in time to black the blow.

It wouldn't have been strong enough to injure him, but the clash of metal still puts them off balance. Tycho staggers back, and Wedge's hand shoots out to grip his arm and right them both. The balance shifts again, and suddenly Wedge is flailing. His backside hits the ground, air rushing out of him in an _oof_ as his sword flies away with a dull thump on the grass. Half a second later, his lungs are forcefully emptied again as Tycho lands on top of him, sword flung harmlessly out to the side.

It takes a second of struggling for Wedge to get his breath back, and then when he turns his head to find Tycho's wide eyes just inches from his, it leaves him again. They're so close. Tycho's weight atop him, armor digging into the gaps in Wedge's, closer than they've been since that first night they slept back to back. A hundred other moments come to Wedge's mind – the hand on his wrist as the smith told them about the burning of the inn, the lingering warmth of massages after a hard day's ride, an arm around him when he cries, more often than he'd like.

They lock eyes, entranced, for long heart-stopping moments. Tycho's lips part as if he's about to speak, and Wedge stares at them, pink and soft, and he'd barely have to move to-

Tycho moves suddenly, a rustle and clank as he sits up and pushes himself off Wedge. “Sorry about that,” he says, a little too loudly. “You did get me good. Well done.”

Wedge can feel himself blushing as he sits up, has no way to hide it. “I have a good teacher.”

“But you're still doing the work.”

Tycho holds out a hand, and when Wedge takes it, pulls him to his feet. And in close, nearly as close as they had been been mere moments ago.

“Wedge-” he starts, voice suddenly strained.

Wedge kisses him, because he was already starting to regret the lost moment and he's not going to let another one slip by.

Tycho makes a sort of desperate, overwhelmed sound and kisses back, his hands moving to curl in Wedge's hair.

Wedge's hands find Tycho's waist and clutch there, keeping them close. It feels so good to give in to this, to let the fear and uncertainty go and enjoy the touch he barely acknowledged his desire for for what feels like so long.

Tycho licks at his lips, and Wedge parts them without thinking, whimpering into the kiss as Tycho turns it deeper. He's been kissed before, more than once. A cute boy or two who had come through the inn. A miller's son from nearby he'd dallied with for a summer before the boy married the girl his father had chosen. But it's never been like this. Wedge doesn't think he's ever felt true desire before like the heat that's pooling beneath his skin now, making his fingers dig into Tycho's skin, making him _want-_

Tycho pulls back with a gasp, but only far enough to lean their foreheads together. “I wasn't sure,” he pants.

Wedge's eyes fluttered closed. He's still a little overwhelmed by the sudden solid reality of it, but he nods. “I've wanted – since I first saw you.”

Tycho's breath comes out in a little _oh_, warm on Wedge's face. His hands untangle from Wedge's hair and fall to his arms, a more tender embrace. “You could have said.”

Words about how it didn't feel right, how he couldn't allow himself to _care_ when he'd just lost everything, back up in Wedge's throat. “I'm sorry.”

“No. Don't be.” Tycho kisses him again, quick, soft, and his eyes are warm. “Let's sit down, okay? There are some things I want to tell you.”

The words stir up nerves in the pit of Wedge's stomach, but he agrees. The two of them put their weapons away and see to the horses before spreading their bedrolls beside the fire. Tycho sits crosslegged in the middle of his and beckons Wedge down beside him. Wedge goes, the proximity feeling good, the warm of the fire on his face, the warmth of Tycho at his side.

Tycho takes Wedge's hand and speaks, gazing into the fire as night falls around them. “I never told you exactly what happened when the dragon destroyed my village.”

Wedge waits, suddenly breathless. This isn't what he expected Tycho to say. He doesn't know what he expected him to say.

“I was away, in place as part of the king's guard. Back home, there was a woman, Nyiestra.” His lips curve slightly at the name, and Wedge's stomach clenches. “We were betrothed. Our parents' idea. We were friends all through our childhood. I don't know that we would have chosen to marry, but we weren't against it either.” He sighs, eyes dipping closed for a moment. “Then it was too late. She was gone. My parents were gone. Everything was gone, and I wasn't even there. There was just the beast and this quest.” He gestures, helplessly, to his horse, the campfire, the quiet woods around them. “The king let me go; he understood what I needed to do. I always knew it was the right thing, but I was alone. Then there was you.”

He turns blue eyes on Wedge, so full of emotion Wedge doesn't know how to respond.

“I'm not glad what happened to me happened to you, Wedge. I would change it in a second if I could. But I'm glad to have you by my side. Training you and taking care of you – that's given me another purpose. Something besides revenge and hate. And I know it hasn't been that long, but I've come to care for you so much more than I expected.”

The depth of emotion is a little scary, but Wedge can't not answer in kind. “I was afraid I was just clinging to you at first,” he admits. “Looking for purpose and something to focus on besides pain. And maybe that's still a little true, but the more I've gotten to know you, the more time I've spend with you...it's just you. I don't know how else to put it. I want to be with you.”

Tycho leans in, pauses and lets Wedge meet him halfway in another gentle kiss. “I don't want you to feel obligated because of the things I've done for you. I mean it.”

Wedge shakes his head. “No. That's still strange for me, I admit, but it's not what this is.”

Tycho lets out a breath that sounds like relief. Then he smiles, a hand cupping Wedge's cheek. “I don't know what to do now,” he admits. “It's like everything's changed, but also nothing has.”

Wedge leans into the touch, smiling as well. “I know what you mean.”

Tycho touches their foreheads together again and for long moments just seems to be breathing Wedge in. His fingers move slowly, carding through Wedge's hair, tracing down his neck and across his shoulder, down his arm. Sensation disappears when he touches the metal that covers his torso.

“Will you take your armor off?” Tycho breathes.

Wedge's breath hitches at the thought of what that might mean.

“I'm sorry,” Tycho says at his hesitation. He's trembling a little now. “I'm sorry. I don't want to go too fast, but I-”

“I'll take it off,” Wedge says, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice.

Tycho leans back to give him space, but he doesn't hide the fact that he's watching. Wedge works steadily to remove the armor, his skin prickling with the attention. It's not scary; it feels _good_ to be looked at. It feels good to have Tycho look at him like this.

When he's done, Tycho does the same, stripping of his plates, then turns to face him fully, leaning in to kiss Wedge again, lips warm and reassuring as strong hands touch him. They wander down his sides and then across his chest and stomach, caressing and exploring, and Wedge shivers with it. He's never had this before, never anything like this, and he wants everything Tycho has to give him.

“I’ve never...” Wedge manages when fingers slip below his tunic to touch bare skin.

Tycho pulls back just enough to look at him, his eyes so soft and blue in the light of the setting sun. “I’ll teach you. If this is what you want.”

Wedge smiles, nerves draining away at the familiar words. He trusts Tycho to guide him through this as he has everything else. “I want you,” he whispers.

Tycho is true to his word. He’s slow and gentle as he undresses Wedge and lays him back on the blanket. Quiet words explain every step until at last they’re joined as one.

As the stars move above him and Tycho moves inside him, Wedge cries out in pleasure and joy, holding him close and thanking everything he knows that he’s lost so much but found this.

Wedge has never been kissed awake before, has never had hands on him drawing him into consciousness and pleasure, never come practically before he's opened his eyes. As he holds Tycho close and kisses him, clumsily but effectively, it seems, returning the favor, he decides there's no other way he'd rather do it.

They leave camp that day later than they ever have, and Wedge can't help blushing in delight at the way Tycho keeps looking at him, this adoring, appreciative smile on his face, like he's been wanting to do it this whole time and is finally allowed.

Wedge understands. It's practically painful to stay away from now, but they both know they can't stay in camp all day indulging themselves. They have a mission, and it's important. And how can they neglect it now, when it's what brought them together?

Wedge is doing his own share of gazing dreamily at Tycho, which is maybe why he doesn't spot whatever it is that makes Tycho draw his horse up short. The animal's surprise and annoyance flit through Wedge's mind as he stops as well, following Tycho's gaze – only have his heart drop into his gut.

Some distance ahead of them, the path enters another clearing, but this isn't like the ones they've camped in in the past. There's no soft green grass, no trees leaning in to give dappled shelter.

No. Here the grass is withered and black, the trees broken off and burned. _Burned._

Wedge finds himself shivering as Tycho says quietly, “It's been here.”

They ride forward cautiously, Wedge's tremors ratcheting up as they enter the clearing. There's a large depression to one side, where the beast must have landed, and scattered around are piles of animal bones – deer, maybe, or elk – as blacked as the surrounding plant life. Wedge wonders for a paralyzing second how much the dragon has to eat to survive and whether animals are all it feasts on.

Tycho slides off of his horse, dry grass crunching under his feet. “This is how it hunts. I've seen it before.” He glances around at the shattered bones and broken trees. “Impossible to tell how long ago.”

Wedge shifts uncomfortably, hoping it's been awhile, wondering how close their quarry was last night when they were so vulnerable. At least now they have confirmation that they're going in the right direction.

Wedge's horse whinnies nervously, vague images of fear and discomfort radiating off of her. She knows something is wrong here, has some sense of the carnage that happened. Wedge rubs her neck and murmurs soothingly, sending calm. He reaches out to Tycho's mount as well, as much as he can from where he is.

Tycho gets back in his saddle, looking thoughtful. Before he can say anything, there's a sound from above, something Wedge can't quite place, and then a shadow falls. Wedge's heart kicks hard, because then he _knows._ His horse screams and bucks, and he clutches at his reigns, trying to calm her with his hands and his power as the dragon soars high overhead, those ragged black wings something out of a nightmare.

Tycho cries out wordlessly, then manages, “Come on, we have to go after it!” He urges his horse into a gallop, and after another moment of struggle, Wedge manages to follow.

They thunder down the path, trees blurring into green and brown smears on either side, the black shape far above, flying straight like it's on a mission of its own.

This could be it, Wedge thinks frantically. The final fight could be today if they catch up and convince it to land. This could-

Then they're in a thicket, the sky suddenly gone, and Tycho curses loudly and pushes his horse faster. The trees open up again some distance later, and Tycho skids his mount to a stop as he whirls from side to side, searching. But the beast is gone, the sky clear and blue.

Wedge stops beside him, panting nearly as loudly as the trembling animal beneath him. _You did well,_ he thinks to her, smoothing her mane as he watches Tycho, waiting to hear what they'll do next.

“It's close,” Tycho says, his voice shaking. His eyes are wild, too, and Wedge can relate. He can't look that much different. “We have to-”

There's a sound in the distance. A loud roar, but not that of an animal, and a commotion. Without hesitation, Tycho takes off in that direction. Wedge follows again, heart in his throat, because he knows what he's going to see.

Sure enough, they reach the edge of the woods and find a village. Huge flames lick half the structures as people scream and run. Some of them are scooping water from the nearby river with buckets and pans and other implements and throwing it on the burning buildings. Some of them are simply standing in the water, horror-stricken.

The dragon is already gone, but that hardly matters now. In silent synchrony, Wedge and Tycho leap from their horses and join the fray, accepting vessels of their own and answering desperate cries for help as they try to put out the fires.

The fight lasts what feels like hours, and at the end, only one building has been completely saved. A store is gone as well as a pair of houses and a stable. An inn is charred and partially collapsed, but it's been rescued.

Exhausted and spent, Wedge drops his bucket and sinks to his knees beside the inn. His hands shake wildly. He hadn't had time to consider the similarities while everyone was panicking, hadn't had time for trauma while he was helping, but now it all sinks in and comes out in tremors and tears.

He starts at a presence next to him, but the soft voice is familiar. “Wedge. Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head, unable to speak through sudden sobs.

Tycho's hands land on his shoulders. “I know. I know. It's all right. Can I hold you?”

Wedge whimpers and collapses forward, Tycho arms going around him, solid and comforting. “I'm sorry,” Wedge manages between tears. “I know – I know this has to be hard for you too.”

Tycho shakes his head, breathing only a little unsteady. “Shh, I'm here for you right now.”

Wedge lets it go, because he can't find it in him to offer comfort at the moment when he needs it so badly himself. He buries his face in Tycho's shoulder and cries. Too-familiar smells and sounds push in on him from every side, charred wood and the settling of broken structures. He's back outside his own inn again, loss a gaping hole in his chest.

Except this isn't that. This is other people who hurt like him, this is Tycho holding him and comforting him, this is their _mission._

This is another sort of loss.

Wedge blinks his eyes clear and sits back to look at Tycho.

“Hey,” Tycho says, touching his face.

Wedge lays his hand over Tycho's. “What do we do now?”

“There's another inn on the other side of town,” Tycho explains softly as he thumbs the last of Wedge's tears away. “We're being offered rooms for the night. For helping.”

Wedge nods. That does sound nice. He's so exhausted, emotionally and physically, and he hasn't seen an actual bed in weeks.

Tycho stands and helps him up. “Our horses have already been taken care of. They're making dinner and drawing us a bath as we speak. Should we head over?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Tycho wraps an arm around him and leads him through the town. Wedge tries not to look at the grief-stricken villagers milling around. Their faces hit far too close to home, and he doesn't truly know how to help them. He hopes they all have places to go tonight too.

He stays quiet as Tycho greets the innkeeper and introduces them, then leads him to the room they've been assigned. There are plates of food waiting and a full tub steaming in the middle of the room. Wedge lurches toward it without even thinking.

“Yes, you go first,” Tycho agrees. “You're filthy.”

“We're both filthy.” But again Wedge doesn't argue, simply strips off his sweaty and ash-caked clothes and steps into the bath. He can't hold back a moan as the hot water closes around him. He feels cleaner and more relaxed already.

Tycho appears at his side with a rough cake of soap. “Let me help?”

Wedge murmurs agreement, tilting his head back as Tycho rubs his fingers through his hair. It feels good.

“We did the best we could today,” Tycho says softly as he works. “There wasn't time. We couldn't prevent it. We saved as many as we could. Only one person in one of the houses died, did you know that?”

“No,” Wedge answers. He knows Tycho is justifying this to himself as much as to Wedge. He suddenly knows how Tycho felt when he came across Wedge that night, and he hates it.

“It's true.” Tycho supports Wedge's neck and helps him lean back to rinse his hair, then sets to work cleaning the rest of his body. “And they saw which way the dragon went. They've seen her before, and they think she has a lair on the mountain a few days' ride north of here.”

Wedge shivers, making the water lap at the sides of the tub. “That's where we're going next?”

“Yes. We can end this once and for all. If she's not there, we'll wait. We won't let this happen to anyone else.”

“This isn't your fault either,” Wedge tells him, meeting Tycho's eyes. “You know that.”

Tycho's hands go still, resting on Wedge's chest. “I know.” The words are heavy, helpless.

Wedge threads his fingers with Tycho's. “We'll end this,” he agrees. “One way or another.”

Tycho lets out a long breath and nods.

When Wedge is clean, Tycho takes his turn, and then they eat their cooling food together. It's nice to have something fresh off of a stove rather than camp food. And then there's the bed. As much as Wedge might like the distraction of intimate touch now that he knows it's available to him, they're both too exhausted and heartsick. Instead, they climb into the soft bed together, pressed skin to skin and fall into heavy sleep.

In the morning they hesitantly accept more thanks from the villagers and even promise to return to help with rebuilding after slaying the dragon. When Tycho says the words, it makes Wedge smile a bit. It makes everything sound more hopeful, takes away some of the fear, already planning _after_ for both of them.

“What's our plan?” Tycho asks, breaking the quiet as they ride out of town.

“You're still the one with more experience. You call the shots.”

Tycho gives him a sidelong look. “We're partners, Wedge. We work together.”

Wedge can't help but smile at that, the word settling deep in his gut. It feels right. “Okay then. We find the lair. Probably best if the dragon isn't there at the time. Stake it out. Hide nearby or even inside. When she lands, we take her out.”

Tycho nods slowly. “It sounds simple, doesn't it?”

“I know it won't be.” Wedge looks away. The dragon is huge, has claws and teeth and breathes fire. They're two men with swords.

“Hey.” Wedge looks back at him, and Tycho smiles. “Don't we have the power of good on our side?”

Wedge has to laugh. “I think that only works in the stories.”

“Maybe. But there's your magic, too. Maybe you can distract her. Tell her we mean no harm.”

Wedge bites his lip. Something about it feels wrong, but it is their mission. He has to give everything he has to make it a success. “I can do that if I can get close enough to her in the first place.”

They ride on in silence for awhile before Wedge can't help but blurt out, “Are you scared?”

Tycho's brows furrow. “Scared?”

“Yes. You're about to reach the end of your quest and fight a dragon. You-” Wedge chokes on the words, unable to continue the flippant truth.

Tycho's face creases as he draws his horse up alongside Wedge's. “I might die,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the animals' hooves. He reaches over to touch Wedge's leg. “But I'm more worried about you. On some levels, I feel like I dragged you into this.”

“Are you kidding? I could have said no. I could have left at any time.”

“Where would you have gone?”

“I would have found something,” Wedge argues. He has no idea what, but he is telling the truth. Sure, this started as Tycho's quest, but it's his now too, even moreso with the way their relationship has grown closer. “But I never wanted to.”

Tycho gives him a tremulous smile. “That's good to hear, but it won't fix my broken heart if something happens to you.”

“I feel the same,” Wedge tells him, meeting his eyes solemnly. “I don't know what I would do without you now.”

Tycho looks like he wants to say something but he's not sure he can. Wedge's chest is suddenly tight with emotion.

Then Wedge's horse shakes her head in irritation, and Wedge realizes he's been clutching his reigns far too tightly.

Tycho raises an eyebrow and quips, “Easy. I thought you knew how to ride.”

Wedge glares, knowing he's being teased. He rearranges the reigns and moves on ahead, grateful the tense moment is behind them.

Three days later, they reach the bottom of the mountain. Grassy forest turns into smooth stone, the gray mass of rock towering above them.

“Do we know where the lair is supposed to be exactly?” Wedge asks, standing at the edge of camp and craning his neck to look up and up and up.

“Near the top, I think,” Tycho says from close behind him, “but no, not exactly.”

Wedge makes a thoughtful sound, scanning the cliffs above them. Sharp ledges and abutments, snow dusting the very peak. There's no clear path he can see.

“Can the horses even make it up there?”

“Probably not, but they'll be fine here for a day or two.”

Wedge shivers, unsure why the thought of leaving them behind unnerves him so. Tycho's arms come around him, and Wedge leans back into his warmth. Then he spots something and jolts forward again. “Look!”

He points, and Tycho leans in to follow his gaze. Wedge indicates a dark shadow about two thirds of the way up the mountain, something he recognizes as a depression, a large cave maybe, the longer he looks at it. “Do you think...?”

It's Tycho's turn to shiver, but his voice is high with excitement when he answers. “It could be. We'll head up tomorrow and check it out.”

Tomorrow. That could be the end of all this. Anticipation and fear war in Wedge's gut with the ever-present desire for vengeance.

He spins and tugs Tycho in for a kiss. He's not going up there without spending more time with him first.

Morning finds them silent and tense. No afraid, not exactly, but they both know what today could bring. Tycho packs the things they'll take up the mountain with them – mostly their weapons, armor, and medical supplies – while Wedge ties the horses in an area where they'll be able to graze and does his best to convey that he and Tycho will return. He tries not imagine what will happen to the animals if they don't. (But they _will_, and they're going to need a way back to civilization when they do.)

They nod to each other silently as they begin the ascent. They pick their way up the side of the mountain, scree making them scramble and slip, but they help each other and they make it. The nearer they grow to the shadow they'd seen, the more likely a target it seems. It's clearly a cave, a large enough hollow for a great beast to make a home in, sheltered from the elements as much as it can be and away from most possible disturbances.

By mid afternoon, they make their way over the final ledge, and there they are. The cave is empty and big enough for two or three dragons to fit inside, edged by crumbling rocks and strewn with charred and splintered bones like the forest clearing. Wedge had wondered off and on if they might find eggs and what they would have to do with them, but thankfully there are none.

Tycho is looking critically at the mouth of the cave and the human-sized boulders strewn around it. “We can hide here,” he says. “When it goes inside we cover the entrance. It'll be trapped.”

Wedge takes a deep breath and nods, fingers worrying the hilt of his sword. “If she sees us before she lands, she'll roast us from the sky and that'll be that.” It's an odd thing to say out loud and so calmly, but it's true.

“We'll be careful. See here.” Tycho points. “We should be able to fit in these crevasses and not be visible. Then you distract her with your power while I go in for the kill.” He spears Wedge with a look. “You remember what I told you about the weak points in case you need to take over?”

Wedge holds back a flinch and nods, mind rolling back to a night what feels like long ago when Tycho had drawn a picture of the dragon in the dirt and showed him where to strike should the need arise. Vital organs. A quick kill. He shivers.

“Good.”

“How long do we wait?” Wedge asks, the wind up this high trying to blow his words away. “What if she doesn't come back tonight?”

“We wait,” Tycho says firmly. “I'm not giving up now.”

“Nor me.”

“Okay. This is it then.” Tycho squeezes his arms, gives him a quick, hard kiss. “Get into position. See you on the other side.”

“I-”

Tycho gives him a shove toward the rocks. “No defeatist talk now.”

Wedge bites his lip and goes.

The hours pass so slowly. They can't even speak, not knowing when the creature might return, not knowing how powerful its senses are, how far off it could hear them. Wedge keeps reaching out, trying to get a sense of it, but there's nothing.

Then, just as the sun is beginning to dip low in the sky, that same sound from the clearing. _Wings._ Wedge's heart goes icy, and he shifts minutely to meet Tycho's wide blue eyes, then looks up.

Ragged wings outlined against the fading blue as the dragon grows larger and larger. Wedge's heart quails. He hadn't realized just how huge the beast would be this close, but there's no going back now.

She lights on the ledge outside the cave, hand-sized talons scrabbling on the stone, and folds great wings onto her back. Wedge struggles to stay entirely still, knowing the slightest clank of his armor or sword will give him away.

The dragon looks left and right, tongue coming out to taste the air, and for a heart-stopping second, Wedge thinks they're lost. Then she seems to relax and lumbers into the cave.

He meets Tycho's eyes again, heart thundering, and watches his partner count down on his fingers. _Three. Two. One._

Wedge's hands shake as he moves from his hiding place and reaches out to the dragon's mind. It's so different than anything else he's ever touched. Wilder, yes, but also more organized. Not quite human, but closer than any other animal he's communicated with.

That's all he gets before the dragon whips her head and back and forth in confusion, a startled half-roar issuing from her throat as she whirls to face him.

“I'm not here to hurt you!” Wedge shouts, pushing the same idea through his magic. “I came from one of the place you destroyed, and I want to know why!”

The dragon growls and snorts, confusion at his sudden appearance in her mind, but there's intelligence there too. She understands what he said even if she can't speak as he can.

He sees Tycho sneaking around the edge of the cave as the dragon keeps her eyes on Wedge, and then his vision blurs as she seems to understand and take advantage of their connection. An image forms in his mind. Another dragon, this one different, wings smooth and clean instead of jagged, a red tint to its scales rather than pure black. It glides through a bright blue sky over a castle somewhere far away. _Peace_, the dragon in the cave thinks at him wordlessly. Without warning, a ballista bolt fires up from the walls and pierces the red dragon's heart. Wedge cries out in silent shock and grief, not sure if the emotions are his or those of the creature sharing with him. A grief he knows, between what he's lost and what he fears to lose today.

_Your mate,_ he says silently.

_Mate,_ the dragon echoes the idea, along with another wave of grief and anger. _Revenge._

It's so simple and clear suddenly. Wedge blinks back to reality to find the black dragon staring at him with huge luminescent eyes. Her mate was taken from her. She's fighting back, raging and hurting, taking revenge on any humans she comes across. He feels, suddenly, sympathy.

Before he can convey anything else, Tycho lunches, his sword poised for the dragon's heart, and she whips around, screeching so loud Wedge tries to cover his hears, wincing when it makes the helmet he wears clang about his head. One swipe of the dragon's massive head throws Tycho against the cave's wall. He sword clangs away, and he tumbles to the floor, limp as a rag doll. The dragon rears back, flame gathering in her open mouth.

“_No!_” Wedge screams, because he can't watch this happen.

He doesn't know if he managed to send that thought to the dragon's mind or simply cry it aloud, but the fire fades away again as she turns to him. Wedge scrambles for the connection again, is bombarded with anger and betrayal and the desire to kill.

_Don't_, he begs, using everything in him to convey to her what he feels, what he so desperately wants. _Please don't kill him. You lost your mate. I-I understand. I lost my family. You killed them. You've killed so many, but it's not going to bring your mate back. Tycho – he-he's _my_ mate. Think of how much it hurt you to lose yours. Please. _Please_ don't do that to me._

The dragon blinks at him, and he can feel her struggle. She understands. She understands how they're the same and how they're different.

_Please,_ Wedge says again. _I know you don't owe me anything. I know I can't bring back your mate. I wish I could. I wish I could tell you why he was taken. But please. Don't punish me for something I had nothing to do with. Don't punish Tycho. I – I love him. Don't take him like you took the others. Please._

_ You came here to kill me._

_ We did,_ Wedge says desperately. _But only because we didn't know. And knowing why doesn't make what you've done to all of those people okay, but I understand it. I understand hurting and wanting revenge. That's why we came after you. You took our families, everything we had, away from us._ There are tears running his down his face now, his control slipping. _You're had your revenge on innocents! Isn't that enough?_

The dragon growls and snorts, frustration zinging through her again. _The first human settlement I destroyed was the one whose people took my mate's life. They deserved their punishment, but it did not settle me. Nothing since has settled me. Taking your mate's life in turn will not settle me._

Wedge can't breath. _Then-_

_I will not kill him. It is not worth it. I feel your pain, human, and it is like mine._

_ I'm sorry,_ Wedge tells her, shaking with relief now. _I'm sorry for your loss and for how much you hurt. Will you stop hurting others now? Others like Tycho and I?_

_Yes. Perhaps I have been wrong. It only took speaking to you to see it. You have been brave, human. I could have killed you long ago._

_I did what was right. I did what I had to do to save him._

_Indeed._ The great wings shift, a gust of wing blowing from the cavern. _Let me pass. You will not hear of me again._

_ Where will you go?_

_Away. There are tales of more of my kind, far from here. I will never mate again, but I will not be alone._

Wedge stands aside, and without another thought for him, the dragon steps to the ledge and takes flight. Wedge drops to his knees in order to keep from being swept away.

As soon as she's gone, he races to where Tycho still lays, motionless. One arm lies awkwardly, clearly broken, and there's a dent in his helmet.

“Please,” Wedge whispers brokenly as he slips it off to reveal Tycho's face. “Please, Tycho.” Beneath the metal, his head is bleeding, red streaking his blond hair. Wedge tries not to panic; he knows how head wounds bleed.

“Tycho,” he says again. Fingers over his partner's lips reveal that he's breathing, though shallowly. Wedge's heart aches with relief, though he knows that just because Tycho lives doesn't mean he's okay. “Come on,” he murmurs, tapping his cheek.

After a few more tries, Tycho's lashes flutter and roll open to reveal dazed blue eyes. “Wedge?” he mutters.

Wedge lets out a sob, clutching him close, only marginally loosening his hold when Tycho gasps in pain. “You're alive,” he whimpers into his dirty hair.

“Alive,” Tycho agrees raggedly. “The dragon?”

“Gone,” Wedge tells him, caring about nothing in this moment than Tycho alive in his arms. “She was going to kill you. I managed-” Words tangle in his brain, and he stops trying, just holding Tycho for long, long moments.

Finally, he lets Tycho sit up, watching the way he winces and bites back cries as he moves his broken arm. With the other, he gingerly touches his head, flinching again when he finds the cut. “This will all heal,” Tycho decides. “Nothing permanent.”

Wedge is still crying a little, hands latched onto whatever uninjured parts of Tycho he can reach and unwilling to let go.

“Wedge.” Tycho squeezes his hand and makes him meet his eyes. His are a little unfocused, probably concussed, but he'll survive that, Wedge knows. He'll _survive_. “Tell me what happened.”

Words hitching and shaky with emotion, Wedge tells him everything. The dragon's grief, how it matched his own. The cycle of revenge and pain and how they had broken it together.

“I love you,” he finishes with, the words quiet and honest and so right. “That's what did it, in the end. She knew. She couldn't put me through what she'd been through once she understood.”

Tycho touches his cheek and draws him in for the gentlest of kisses. “You are so amazing, Wedge. Brave and powerful. Look at what you accomplished. I never could have done that.” Even with the haze in his eyes, Wedge can see the honestly and awe there are true. “I love you so much.”

Wedge lets out an involuntary little sound of surprise and pleasure. He thinks he'd known before, even if they'd never let each other say it. It's so much better to have said it.

“So the dragon is gone,” Tycho says quietly. “What now?”

“We promised to help rebuild in the last village,” Wedge reminds him, their fingers curled together again. “Other places are going to need rebuilding too. Maybe-” He catches his breath at an idea, a curl of excitement at something he'd never considered before. “Maybe we could even rebuild my inn.”

“We could run it together,” Tycho muses, and Wedge feels warm with his smile. “After I'm healed, of course. I could use a break from adventure.”

“Of course.” Wedge kisses him again, can't help the urge. “I didn't think this was how today was going to end,” he admits softly.

“Me either. But I'm so glad. I never would have considered it, but I think it's the best. And it couldn't have happened without you.”

Wedge buries his head in Tycho's shoulder and closes his eyes, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent of the man he loves. The dragon is defeated, if not the way they'd planned. They're both alive, if a little banged up. They have their whole lives ahead of them, and Tycho wants to spend them together. Wedge can't imagine a better outcome.


End file.
